


One Day at a Time

by egg_is_meat



Category: South Park
Genre: (so ninth grade i think), Fluff and Angst, Gay, M/M, clyde cries, many hugs, marked as death warning only because of clyde's dog, they're 14 in this because it seems to be a good age for fics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-18
Updated: 2019-11-01
Packaged: 2020-11-02 08:26:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 12
Words: 12,275
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20683343
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/egg_is_meat/pseuds/egg_is_meat
Summary: It was just a dog. An ill dog that happened to mean a lot to Clyde Donovan. And with Token's help, he was getting through it- until, let us say, shit got real. As things escalate, Token and Clyde struggle to stay on their feet. But they'll make it through, right?They'd better.





	1. CLYDE

"He's very sick." That's what the veterinarians told him. That's what Clyde's dad told him. They kept telling him that, until that was all he heard. Until those words were all he could hear. They were drowning out everything else, and time was running low.

That was what they said. They said, "He doesn't have much time left." They said that soon, he wouldn't be sick anymore. He would be dead.

Clyde didn't know which was worse.

They said that when somebody dies, they don't have to suffer anymore. And Clyde's head agreed with that. It made sense. Wasn't it what he deserved, after all of the struggling? After being sick all that time? But Clyde didn't want him to go. He knew it was selfish. He knew that if Rex had a voice, he would say he wanted to go.

That was who this was all about anyway, wasn't it?

Rex?

Rex was a dog. He was not a person. He was an old dog with white hairs in his gray fur. He was an old dog with tired eyes, an old dog with sluggish movement. His tail didn't wag, and his tongue never stuck out of his mouth in the cute way it used to, unless he was panting for air.

His fur was matted as Clyde stroked his fingers through it. "I'm sorry, old boy," he whispered. He apologized every morning before school, and every night after school. Tomorrow night he wouldn't be there to apologize to.

Clyde couldn't think about him without feeling his eyes burn and his face heat up. He couldn't look at him without tears gathering. And he certainly couldn't lay down in his bed, Rex snuggled up next to him with his head in his lap, without sobbing quietly to himself.

Clyde gently picked up the dog's head to face him. His black, shiny nose was dry and his fur was crusty around his muzzle and mouth. "I hope it doesn't hurt," he said. "I hope... I hope to God that you don't feel it. So they can say goodnight to you and you really won't ever hurt again." He hugged the canine closer. "You're a very sick dog, do you know that?"

Rex whined and Clyde let go, feeling his shoulders fall as the dog stumbled away, down the hall. His steps were shaky and his weak cries were raspy and sorrowful.

When Rex had disappeared, Roger pushed Clyde's bedroom door further open from where the dog had left it. "Hey, kiddo. How are you holding up?"

"I don't know." He wiped his face free of moisture and sniffed up a free stream of snot.

"Hey..." Roger walked across the room and sat next to his son, one leg folded under himself and one hanging off the bed. He reached his arm to rub Clyde's back. "Listen. I know the situation isn't ideal, but-"

"Not ideal?" Clyde whipped around, meeting Roger's gaze with daggers for eyes. His eyes were once again filled with tears. His expression was pained but his voice was quiet. Small. Vulnerable. "Rex is going to die. They're going to put him down." He pulled his legs up and wrapped his arms around himself, covering his face with his knees.

Roger inhaled sharply. "It... could be worse."

"Face it, Dad," Clyde whispered hoarsely, his voice barely audible through his muffling baggy pants. "No, it couldn't."

He didn't know what to say, and once this was clear, Clyde went on.

"Mom is dead. You're barely making enough money to support us. And now we're losing my best friend. I ruined everything." His sobs filled the silence.

"Clyde. Look at me." When the 14-year-old didn't, he tilted his head up by holding his chin in his hand. "You didn't ruin anything. Your mother's passing was unfortunate, and... and it's my fault I can't afford anything for Rex after this last visit."

His last visit. He was going to walk in with a dog and come out with a heavy heart.

"Can you please just go away?" Roger reluctantly got up and left. "I'm sorry," Clyde added when he caught his own tone.

But his father was already gone.

He pulled out his phone, the red case cold from being unused and under the bed for over a day. There were 23 unread messages which he didn't bother with, and instead read the time. 9:48. He would be lying if he said he wasn't tired. But sleeping that night? Out of question. How could he sleep when Rex was hours away from his last breaths?

Still, Clyde had school the next day. And he had to wake up early to say good-bye to Rex. Or he would never forgive himself. Rex was his best friend. Because he was there when no one else was. Not Craig. Not Jimmy. Not Bebe. Not Kenny. No one. When everyone else had more important plans, more important people to hang out with, Rex was there, waiting and wagging his tail excitedly.

Clyde turned over and pulled the sheets over himself, flicking off the lamp with his pinky.

He cried himself to sleep.


	2. TOKEN

Clyde wasn't there for third hour. For the past week, he'd been puffy-eyed and sad, and every time someone tried reaching out to him, he got unexplainably miserable. Soon enough, everyone just started to accept that Clyde was going through something.

But no one spent any effort or energy to help him.

Token had never skipped class before. But then again, neither had Clyde, and if he was in a mood that caused him to miss language arts, his favorite class, it had to have been serious.

Token took in a deep breath and lifted his hand in the air, staring at the clock. Class had started five minutes ago, and Clyde was present the first two hours of the school day.

Something significant had changed.

And Token was going to figure out what.

"Yes, Token?" the teacher called from where he was copying from papers onto the chalkboard.

"May I use the bathroom?"

"Sure. Be back as soon as you can." He nodded significantly and Token returned the action nervously, dismissing himself and leaving the room.

"Clyde?" Token hissed under his breath, scanning the hallway for any signs of his friend.

The school seemed to be completely empty. Not anyone late for class, no one frantically trying to get their locker open, not a single student proudly presenting a hall pass on their way to the nurse's office.

Token closed his eyes and just as quickly blinked them back open when he heard stifled cries. He followed the noise down the hall and found a shaking body tucked between the water fountain and a long line of lockers.

"Clyde?" Token dropped down onto one knee and reached out his hand. Clyde looked up from where his head was tucked between his arms. His face was dripping with tears and his face was pink. Token's heart tripped over itself when he saw the sight. Not because Clyde was stunningly pretty- though that wasn't necessarily false either. But seeing him in such a state made him genuinely shocked. Clyde wasn't the type to hide himself crying.

"T-Token?"

Token stared at him, unsure of what to say. The hand he'd outreached was now trembling slightly. "Clyde, please... tell me what's going on." He tried to keep his voice even, but concern for Clyde was overpowering.

Clyde avoided looking at his face and instead aimed for his own red sneakers. "It's Rex." Token immediately recognized the name of Clyde's dog. He'd gotten her so many years ago- probably second or third grade if he remembered correctly. "They're putting her down today." Token sucked in a breath.

"I'm sorry for your loss."

"My dad told me I shouldn't let it throw off everything. But... I just can't fill out a fucking spelling inventory while I know that across the state somewhere, they're doing whatever they do to kill dogs who can't live anymore." His speech was wracking with sobs. "A-and on top of that..." After a few seconds, Token stopped assuming it was a pause for effect and realized he'd lost momentum.

"Hey, it's okay." He moved his hand, which Clyde still hadn't taken, to the brunette's shoulder. "You don't have to go on if you don't want to. But... I'm here for you."

For a split second, he could see Clyde's eyes light up. There were glints in those deep brown eyes. Token could never quite place what made them so beautiful. But now it hurt to look at them, with their dull, glazed over look and dark bags.

"We're running out of money. My dad's shifts keep getting reduced. And some company is trying to replace the shoe store at the mall. So... God, I don't even know what that means. I'm sorry."

Token moved to scoot on the cold, hard floor next to him and wrapped an arm around him. "You don't deserve any of this."

He could sense Clyde's hesitation before he murmured, "I know."

But Token ignored it, knowing that it wasn't the time to dig for more secrets. Clyde was vulnerable, and for once, Token had a chance to be there for him. "Is there any way I help?"

Clyde shrugged. "I mean... you skipping class for me was nice." He finally met Token's eyes and Token's heart jumped at the sweet smile Clyde offered. "Thank you."

"Of course," Token said, adjusting his position so they could fully hug. Clyde melted into it, tightening his grip like it was his lifeline. They were so close, Token could feel Clyde's heartbeat. Steadier. Slower. Unlike Token's, which had to have been alarmingly fast for it to feel like his heart was pounding against his chest. The hug was warm and soft and felt so right that Token would have loved to stay in that position for an eternity or two.

Clyde pulled away before it could become a too-long-to-be-between-just-friends hug, though, and the same wholehearted smile was on his face, though his face was covered in tears again.

"Oh! I'm sorry, did-"

Clyde batted the air with his hand as if he were waving the thoughts away, and laughed, which had to have been the most gorgeous sound in the universe. "No, of course not, moron. Thank you again." He gave Token another tight squeeze before getting up. He readjusted his bag on his shoulder, then turned around to face a still stunned Token. "Come on. If we hurry we can make it being marked tardy instead of absent."

Token shook his head to pull himself out of his daze and stood up. His smile must have looked absolutely giddy when he said, "Yeah," and followed Clyde to language arts.


	3. CLYDE

The walk home felt longer than it should've. And shorter. At the same time. Because for whatever reason, life seemed to want to torture Clyde Donovan at that very moment.

Usually, Clyde only had to walk home because his dad worked at the mall later than school got out. Today, obviously, that wasn't true. But he wanted to hold off seeing Roger until the last minute he could.

He sighed and trudged on. His black shoes were cold and damp but that didn't stop him from walking on the unplowed grass patches between the sidewalk and road against his dad's permission. There was something about the uncomfortable feeling that he clung onto. It was disgusting. He hated it.

He hated everything.

The sun was too bright. The snow was too pretty. The sidewalk was too perfectly shoveled. The students around him, the adults in cars, the birds singing songs and the squirrels hurrying along the street. They were too happy. It felt like everything around him was so colorful and vibrant, and him? He was a shell of a person. He was angry, and grieving, and so, so empty. All the good things he used to feel had abandoned him, but had stayed surrounding him to taunt him.

They were so unrightfully positive. They didn't care. They couldn't care, because they didn't know, and somehow that hurt even more. That no one knew.

As he walked, he glared at the ground, kicking away chunks of road salt.

The worst thing was that this was exactly the kind of situation Rex handled. On any other day, Clyde might walk home crying and Rex would jump up and lick his face until the only moisture came from slobber. And Clyde would laugh and life would go on.

This time, there was no Rex to hug. There was no anyone to hug. Altogether, there was no one at all.

Except maybe Token. Clyde smiled, remembering earlier that day. Token had even offered to walk home with him, but Clyde insisted he wanted to walk alone. Plus, Token drove home with his parents and it was too much of a hassle. He deserved only good things. He didn't deserve to be dragged into this ordeal.

He was approaching his house now and could see it just down the block. The teenager felt his vision blur as soon as the light brown paint came into view. Crying being Clyde's immediate reaction to a variety of things sucked in many aspects, but he'd be lying if he said it didn't feel good to let it out. Not good like a warm bath or a sweet-smelling candle, but good like the relief after puking; gross-feeling and satisfactory all the same.

He purposely slowed his steps, trying to savor the moments before his turn in life. Even though the gears had already turned, it felt like walking into a new home. And in a way, it was. Months ago, any home of Clyde's would have had Rex.

But that ship had sailed.

Clyde was walking up the driveway. Stepping up to the door. He let out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding, staring at the cloud of air his mouth had produced.

Breathe in, breathe out.

Don't cry.

Clyde gripped the frigid doorknob, feeling his body shiver. He could blame it on the freezing wind, sure, but he was past that. He was afraid. But what else was he supposed to do? Wait to catch a cold? Another raw breeze whipped through, biting at his numb face. He focused on his mitten. Grasping the doorknob. Waiting.

All it took was one turn.

He bit his lip, chapped from the weather, and quick as he could, opened the door.

"Clyde."

The sudden wedge in the familiar silence caused him to jump before shutting the door behind him and shedding his mittens and coat. "Hey, Dad." He recognized his own voice to be stuffier-sounding than usual.

"I know you're going through something rough right now." Roger was on the couch, picking at his short nails. He paused, unsure of how to finish his statement. "I..." He got up and walked over to where Clyde was standing like an empty husk in the center of the living room. Opened his arms as if asking for permission.

In one swift movement, Clyde proceeded to get his arms from his sides to under Roger's shoulders. They stayed like that for a while, time which Clyde spent wiping his face on his dad's sweater. Hugs were always a natural thing to him. Hugs were that one thing you always wanted to tell that person but you never quite could. If it was a good hug, it meant more than words could ever hope to.

"I'm sorry things turned out like this," Roger said into his son's messy hair. 

Clyde didn't answer, but lifted his head off his shoulder, leaving a stain of tears and snot. "I miss him."

"Me too."

"So much."

"Me too."

Roger's replies were so emotionless they could just as easily have been an automated message. But both of them felt the unlimited meaning layered in the two simple words.

"Dad, I'm so scared."

"Me too."


	4. TOKEN

There were ten minutes before first period started that the students could sit in the cafeteria and talk. Ten minutes that Token, Clyde, Craig, Jimmy, and Tweek spent enjoying themselves. They had assembled the perfect group.

Except Clyde didn't show up immediately like he always did. Not at 7:02 either. Or 7:03. By that time, Token was fiddling around with his fingers. "I hope Clyde's okay..."

"Sure he is. He's just late," Craig said flatly, his arm around Tweek and his other hand clasping his phone as they scrolled through social media together.

"B-but what if he's not just late!" Tweek proclaimed, his eyes buggy. "What if- GAH- what if he was KIDNAPPED! Or WORSE!"

"Shh," Craig hushed softly, rubbing Tweek's arm. "None of that happened. He'll be fine."

"Craig's right," Jimmy put in from across the table. "He's p-p-pruh-probably just taking the day off to c-cope."

Tweek raised his portable coffee cup to his mouth, still looking unconvinced. But nonetheless, he didn't feel the need to voice his suggestions anymore.

Jimmy offered a smile. "H-h-hey, h-how's about we play Uno to pass the time?" He brought a deck of cards out of his backpack's front pocket.

And so they played Uno. It was an uneventful game, but it seemed to take their minds off of Clyde for a little bit.

Everyone but Token. Token would never be distracted from Clyde. The pretty colors and empty laughter would not preoccupy his mind. All that was there was Clyde's smile. His pink, smooth lips and crooked grin. He was perfect. Token would be lying if he said he didn't feel anger rising in his throat at the others ignoring the obvious.

No one was there for Clyde.

The more time that passed, the more Token was sure of that.

Token looked up and caught Tweek's yell of, "UNO!" just before the bell rang, signaling everyone to start moving to their lockers.

"Shit, that's the bell," Craig muttered, getting up and intertwining his fingers with Tweek's. The four of them walked out of the lunchroom together but Token took a sharp turn down the opposite hall where they usually continued together.

Craig turned around and Tweek, who he was holding hands with, was just paced slow enough to not notice as Craig said, "Where are you going?"

The crowd was filling the gap in between them fast. "To my locker." There wasn't any time for Craig to reply, but they both felt the presence of the unsaid word lingering above them: Alone. The horde of students swallowed their spots in the hall and Token was pushed to his locker, down the fast route. His locker and first classes were on the other side of the ninth-grade wing compared to Craig, Tweek, and Jimmy.

He didn't know what he was feeling. Or rather, it was the absence of feeling. He walked robotically down the hall, passing Clyde's locker on the way, as their last names sorted them about ten lockers apart.

And sure enough, Clyde himself was there, gathering his things.

Token tried not to be shocked (plenty of kids skipped the extra free time in the mornings, why should this be different?) as he and his classmates filed into the room. He sat next to Clyde in this class and patiently stared at the empty desk, thoughts racing.

Just before the loud alarm went off, Clyde speed-walked through the room and slid into his chair, shooting Token a nervous smile. Which made Token's heart burn with affection, but that was beside the point.

While the teacher was walking in and the students could talk amongst themselves, Token whispered, "Where were you this morning?"

Clyde shrugged, suddenly becoming interested in the floor under his desk. "I didn't feel like going to the cafeteria." When Token didn't say anything, he went on. "Honestly," the brunette admitted, "I didn't feel like coming here. I still don't. I don't feel like doing anything."

Token caught the glossy shine his eyes were giving off and reached for his upper back. "I'm really sorry about what happened."

"It's- snnnf- it's not your fault." Clyde wiped his eyes before the teacher could notice, but didn't push Token away. His hand stayed neatly under the back of his neck, leeching off of the heat.

Clyde managed not to cry for four whole classes. Almost five hours. Token might have been happy for him if not for feeling the tension under his skin. Clyde's body language was so slow and dull that the fire in his eyes glowed a million times brighter.

Everything seemed to be building up to one moment. If only someone but Token could have felt it.

That moment happened to be passing time just before lunch. When Clyde was walking down the hall, brown paper bag in hand, and saw Craig and Tweek walking together in the opposite direction, the cafeteria door in the middle.

They kept walking and kept walking, but like all parallel lines, they had to meet up somewhere. Right in the middle. Where students already knew to back up and watch.

"Clyde?" Tweek asked, being the first to break the glass silence. "Where were you this- ngh- morning? I thought something real bad happened! REAL BAD! Wait, did it, and you just came back? WERE THERE ALIENS?!" As soon as he sensed Tweek's fear spike up, Craig rubbed his thumb into the palm of Tweek's hand.

It was that one movement.

Token was behind Clyde, keeping a fair distance like everyone else. But he could see Clyde's eyes dart to their hands. Holding hands. Fingers laced.

And then Clyde snapped. "Of course you would ask." It was a statement. It wasn't in a hostile tone. He hadn't even raised his voice. But there was so much hatred seething beneath the words that Tweek flinched, whispering gibberish under his breath.

"What do you mean by that?" Craig took a step forward, pierced eyebrows furrowing. When Clyde didn't immediately answer, he repeated himself. There was more anger in his monotone voice than Token thought possible.

"I mean, isn't he perfect?" His voice was still small, frail even. Like he was on the verge of tears. Like he was about to cry, and this time, he was never going to stop. "Isn't he Tweek Tweak, the most perfect child to ever grace this Earth?"

And then he said it. The boy in the blue chullo said it. The kid who met Clyde when they were in kindergarten, who grew up with him, said the very words that had been eating at him for days, weeks, months. "You're jealous, aren't you?"

"I'm never going to be jealous of someone who steals people away from their friends!" His voice cracked on the last few words. "Craig Tucker, do you remember in the fourth grade, when you said we were going to be best friends until we were dead?"

"No." His gaze faltered for a moment, sorrow glazing his features.

"Of course you don't," Clyde scoffed, "because all you think about nowadays is HIM!" He pointed an accusing finger at Tweek, who jumped.

"SHUT UP!" Craig yelled. "YOU COULD NEVER JUST LET ME BE HAPPY, COULD YOU?!" He panted, leaving the audience in stunned silence, before he continued. "IT'S ALWAYS ABOUT YOU!"

"I MISS THE OLD YOU!" Clyde snapped in retaliation. "YOU USED TO MAKE ME FEEL LIKE I ACTUALLY MEANT SOMETHING TO SOMEBODY."

Craig visibly gritted his teeth. "You fucking MORON. I'm not just going to abandon my love life because you said no! Real friends understand!"

The tears started pouring down Clyde's face. "REAL FRIENDS DON'T LEAVE EACH OTHER IN THE DUST AS SOON AS A PRETTY BOY STROLLS IN! REAL FRIENDS DON'T FORGET! REAL FRIENDS DON'T LEAVE... THEY DON'T... leave me..." He trailed off, shaking violently and beginning to stumble, crouching down onto the floor. "They don't leave me with no one but my dog to help me."

Craig bit his lip, still furious. Looking down at Clyde who was now nearly in a sitting position on the ground, half-curled up. "Yeah; cower. You can't even face what you set yourself up in. I hate you." That was the last thing the boy in the blue chullo said before flipping him the bird and grabbing Tweek's wrist to leave.

Ten seconds of quiet passed. Token was the first to move, getting on his knees to embrace Clyde and whisper reassurances in his ear. Moments after, the flow of the hallway was in motion again, gossip traveling in and out of Token's ears as he sat with Clyde.

"I shouldn't have done that, Token," he whispered, squeezing Token tighter. Clyde's breath was warm against his friend's ear. "I can't believe I did that. I'm such an idiot. I'm such a jerk. I'm a douchebag, I'm a bitch, I'm just as much the fucked up loser Craig made me out to be, I can't believe I did that..." His murmurings were broken up by loud sobs.

"It's okay... It's okay..." Token rubbed Clyde's back, feeling the minutes tick by of sitting there in silence. For every "It's okay," Token felt another stab in his chest. He was lying. Maybe Jimmy or Butters or someone would say that it was okay, or it would be okay, or some poetic shit like that. But Token was a realist.

And if he was being real, this was the most not-okay situation he had been in in quite a long time.


	5. CLYDE

The skies were gray and the air was cold. It was no weather to be playing basketball in the driveway.

But there he was.

He'd shoot and miss and shoot again. Failure after failure. No matter how hard he tried, the ball hit the backboard or rolled around on the rim before dropping to the ground. Not a single hoop in twenty minutes, despite the boy himself having been on the basketball team for years.

The wind bit his red, snotty face as he kept catching the ball over and over, trying again and again, and never making it. He was out of it. His head burned as he pushed on, refusing to put on a hat or scarf.

It hurt so much.

It felt like claws scraping off his raw skin and knawing at his bones. It was freezing, even for South Park. No one was outside on his block or blocks to come. It was just him.

Just lonely Clyde Donovan, who landed himself in a hole he couldn't crawl out of.

With each time he threw up the basketball, his aim got clumsier. He felt it. It was so frustrating. He wanted more than anything to be good at something in that moment. Actually, more than anything, he wanted to go back in time and never tell Craig those awful things. But he'd crossed that line.

He thought about Craig. He would have been behind the basketball hoop, perhaps, with his hands in his pockets. And maybe he'd say something like, "You dumbass. It's been almost half an hour and you still haven't made a single hoop."

And Clyde would say, "Like you could do any better!"

And they'd play a whole game together, and they'd have so much fun, and they wouldn't even keep a score, because they didn't care who won anymore. Clyde wanted Craig to walk up down the road like he used to and say, "What up, loser." They'd play all the basketball in the world. He'd even let Craig teach him chess or whatever (because it was "sooooo much better than checkers").

He forcefully swung his loose arms over his head and watched the ball bounce off the rim and land on the pavement in front of him. The ball bounced up and knocked his face, causing a spiking pain to ripple from the bridge of Clyde's nose and his eyes. He staggered back, wincing, and collapsed onto the ground, wrapping his frosty gloves over his face.

"Dude, what was that?" That's what Craig said the last time this happened. Clyde took a hand off his head and peered through squinted eyes. The silhouette of a younger Craig. He knew it was a memory. For God's sake, he wasn't even hallucinating. But it felt so real. After a few short laughs, Craig looked at Clyde again, his gaze concerned. "Hey, hey man... come on..." Clyde closed his eyes. Younger Craig dragged Younger Clyde inside, calling, "Mr. Donovan! Mr. Donovan!"

Clyde sat up, suffering an immediate headrush, and touched a glove's finger to his nose. When he lifted it out in front of him, he frowned at not only the snot but the blood that stained the material. All he'd managed to do was injure himself. He huffed, forcing himself up, and walked up to the door, leaving the basketball in a firm pile of packing-texture snow.

He knocked on the door. He didn't have the strength to just outright open it. He wished Craig were here, and he wished Rex were here. Rex would jump around in the yard, wagging his tail and shoveling around the snow with his muzzle. Clyde bitterly remembered the past years of sitting in the snow with Craig, building igloos, with Rex running around them and licking their cold faces.

Roger opened the door, adjusting his glasses when he saw his son. "Clyde? Clyde, what happened?" His voice was strained as he quickly hustled him inside and sat him down on the couch.

Clyde didn't answer.

Roger left the room and came back with a handful of toilet paper, which he stuck up Clyde's nose. He breathed in sharply through his mouth, looking down at his feet. "I'm sorry." His usually nasal-sounding voice was harder to understand through a stuffed nose, but Roger just nodded and hugged him.

"You have a black eye," Roger said once he pulled away, crouching down in front of the couch to levelly see Clyde.

"Basketball," he put it shortly, which his father seemed to understand.

Roger sighed, focusing on the ground.

"What is it?"

"Look, son, I didn't really know how to tell you..." He broke off, a pained expression on his face.

Clyde stared at him expectantly, his heart already racing. The last time he'd acted like this was when he came back from the vet that diagnosed Rex.

"I'm really sorry."

Silence.

"I lost my job."

The world froze. Everything went fuzzy except his hands. He stared at his hands. While he thought about his mom and their low-income household and his sister who'd recently moved and gone off to college. His father's job was their last source of money. He tried to tune back into the world but whatever force of the universe that decided to pull him under was strong. Something about not being able to afford the house. Debt.

If but one comprehensible thought ran through his mind, it would have been "Fuck."

When he refocused and stared at his dad's eyes, he realized both of them were nearly crying. Clyde pulled Roger into another hug. They held themselves like that for a bit. Just sobbing quietly.


	6. TOKEN

School was a waste of time. School didn't know the answers to the questions Token was having. School couldn't teach him any of the things he needed so desperately to know. How does a fourteen-year-old keep someone else safe? How does a youngster manage to help someone through the roughest time of their life without failing miserably? And most of all, though they all went hand-in-hand, how could he preserve Clyde Donovan?

Token had gotten the text at exactly 3:12 that morning. He remembered distinctly, the image of his phone light blaring in the darkness scarring his mind.

Clyde  
3:12 AM  
"my dad lost his job"

That was it. He hadn't bothered with capitalization or punctuation, which was a red flag on its own. Clyde wasn't the same anymore, and Token feared that soon, the Clyde he loved would be gone forever.

Token's stomach dropped again when he walked into the cafeteria and eyed the usual meetup spot for his friends and him. Clyde's absence was like a stone in his chest that tugged at him always, though no one else was as affected.

Tweek was leaned over on the table, yanking at his golden hair. "GHHH," he groaned, twisting his feet around on the floor in frustration.

"Hey, guys," Token muttered his greeting and after sitting down, addressed Tweek. "What's going on?"

Tweek lifted his face off the table by a little bit, fixing his eyes on Token. His teeth were gritted together but his voice was clear as he said, "CLYDE'S NOT HERE AGAIN! AFTER WHAT HAPPENED YESTERDAY! GAH! WHAT IF HE NEVER COMES BACK, WHAT IF HE HATES ME! OH MY GOD, HE DOES HATE ME! UGH, THIS IS TOO MUCH PRESSURE!"

After Tweek drifted off into gibberish, Token noticed that Craig was sitting on his side of the table, not Tweek's, who was across from Token. Jimmy sat between Token and Craig, with Kevin (who was tuning them all out and listening to a podcast with his earbuds) next to Tweek.

This didn't have to mean anything.

But it did.

Craig and Tweek had been practically inseparable since their fake-dating in the fourth grade evolved into a real thing. They were always together. And Token suspected it wasn't just coincidence that the day just before, a fight had broken out with them as the main focus.

The table was silent save Tweek's panicked ranting. The loudness of the rest of the lunchroom enveloped them and made everything seem fuzzy and muted.

"I c-c-can see tension," Jimmy pointed out, tugging on the neck of his yellow sweater. "Come on, fellas. We have to look at this situation with p-p-pah... p-p-paahh... p-positivity!" He offered a nervous smile, flashing his braces.

Craig hadn't said a word all morning. Just stared at the table, phone tucked away. But he spoke up, spitting out the words no one wanted to hear but had to all the same. "Look, I'm sorry Jimmy, but right now is really painful. And maybe trying to force my way out of it works for you, but it doesn't for me."

"I m-mean, maybe try looking at it from a-"

"Jimmy." Craig's voice was cold and solid. "I know where you're coming from but now just isn't the time, okay? You go think about sunshine and stuff. Whatever works. But to me, that's just bullshit, so can you please lay off and let me think?" He was still staring at the table, but there was visible sweat dripping down his face.

"Yeah. I'm sorry." Jimmy looked down at his jean pockets in a way that looked to Token like he was mourning their old Uno games.

"Craig?" Tweek said.

Craig didn't answer.

"Craig! Oh my God, oh Lord, you hate me now! I-I really shouldn't have gotten involved in this whole-" Where Craig would have comforted him, Jimmy stretched out his arm and Tweek took his hand, still shaking.

Craig wouldn't say anything. No one would say anything for a while.

Eventually, Tweek pulled away from where he and Jimmy joint hands in the middle of the table. He sighed, running his fingers through his mane of hair before he let his fidgety hands rest in front of him. "This really- gh- sucks, doesn't it?"

Jimmy and Token met eyes and felt a mutual understanding. In South Park, it wasn't uncommon for a fantasy world to threaten the future of humanity, or for an invasion of giant guinea pigs to take over. The town, in general, was known for hosting some pretty fucked up things. It wasn't really a big deal for anything crazy to happen. But this? This was different. This was Clyde.

No matter what, South Park could always come back to normal in the end. But Clyde was a human being with a beating heart. He wasn't exactly known for emotional stability.

Token took out his phone and looked at the text again. "my dad lost his job"

And now he was gone. This time, Token got a feeling Clyde wouldn't come to school at all.

His theory ended up being correct. Throughout the day, the missed calls piled up. Every passing time, every break he could manage, Token tried again to get ahold of Clyde. Patience was key, he kept telling himself. But after over fifteen unanswered calls, his hope was dwindling.

Three hours left of school. Two, one. The clock weighed Token down. Now it was history, the one class that the entire group had together. Token sat in the back corner, Jimmy directly at the front from his view, and Tweek and Craig on opposite sides of the room.

The distance between them felt as far as ever. Craig wouldn't even look at Tweek, whose buggy eyes were on him practically the entire period. A pile of ripped out blonde hair on Tweek's desk grew to ten times its size by the end of the hour.

Token felt the stress in each of his friends. Tweek's usual anxious habits were more drastic. Jimmy's hands could be seen tracing the edges of his crutches in a repetitive pattern. Craig kept yanking on the yellow strings hanging from his hat.

Token couldn't focus. He couldn't breathe without thinking of Clyde. A gross, guilty feeling tugged his heart in different directions. He wanted to throw up.

Relief never came. Not when he finished his homework early. Not when the bell rang. Not when he started walking home with Craig, Tweek, and Jimmy. The cold air stung his skin while they trudged on in silence.

"So, fellas, w-w-what countries are you doing for the report?" Jimmy asked, trying to break the uncomfortable aura.

"Uruguay," Token answered at the same time Tweek yelled, "Canada!"

They all shifted their gazes to Craig, who shrugged and said, "Norway."

After Jimmy seemed to realize that was as far as the conversation would go, he put on his telltale smile that signaled them he had a list of jokes at hand. "What do you call a-"

"Jimmy." It was Craig, who was staring at the sidewalk. "Please, I'm really not in the mood."

Jimmy swallowed and nodded.

Craig had his hands tucked in his pockets. Tweek was rubbing his red-tinted palms together and shivering.

They were not holding hands.


	7. CLYDE

It was Thursday night, yesterday, that he realized what he had to do.

The night that Roger broke the news. The night following his fight with Craig. The night on the week of his dog's death.

The night he realized he'd lost everything.

Since his sister moved out, he had a small room to himself. It was honestly plainer than anyone would have thought, occupied by only a twin bed, a bookcase with mostly comics and Playboy magazines, and a thin but tall wooden wardrobe for his clothes.

Thursday night. 

Clyde ripped out the only plug from his wall; his phone charger. His phone was at full percentage, and if everything went according to plan, it would be fine if it stopped working within a day or two.

He hauled his backpack up from under his bed, wiping his cold bedsheets clean of any dust and staring at it before he finally unzipped it and started moving his clothes from his wardrobe inside.

Somewhere inside him, his body was forcing him to do everything slowly and cautiously. Like this wasn't the right thing.

But it was.

It was the only way.

There was no going back.

He felt a mild burning sensation in his eyes as the world went blurry for a moment before shaking the thoughts and putting a few books in the bag.

He looked down at his phone. The background was never changed from ole Rex's slobbery face. This time he couldn't stop the tears from flowing down to his chin and dropping onto the floor. He licked the sweet-tasting liquid from his chapped lips and turned the phone off, shoving it deep into his backpack.

What else did he need? Clyde was almost in disbelief as to what he was about to do. But it was Friday night. Yesterday he'd made up his mind. He'd had all day, which he'd spent at home with his dad's permission, to think about it. But he was doing this, and he needed one last thing before he left.

He needed Rex's dog bone.

It was such a stupid thing. So useless in his plan. But he needed it.

So the small brown-haired boy, who used to attend South Park's public high school, picked up his late dog's chewed-up bone. He shoved the nostalgic object in his bag and zipped it shut.

"It's time," he whispered to himself, knowing full well it would be the last thing he said in his own room for a long while.

He unlatched the window, swinging the pack over his shoulder and forcing the glass to part. A draft of icy air blew into him, his red coat serving as protection.

Clyde thrust himself halfway over the ridge, turning back to turn off the lamp. He stared into the darkness of his bedroom. This was goodbye.

As the powdery snow fell lightly on his face, he closed his eyes, not letting the frost in his eyelashes bother him. "Bye, Dad."

After another moment, he swiftly jumped down and shut the window.

And he turned around.

And the world looked so fucking different now that it was his only home.

The black sky had more stars than he'd ever looked at. They were always there, he knew, but they were a million times brighter now that they were his guidance. Clyde hoped they were proud of him for his decision.

The moon, too. It was only a half-moon, but it was so so gorgeous. Even Main Street, blocks away, had colors that illuminated on the blank snow, casting long lines of bright reds and blues and yellows and everything in between. Everything was dark and bright at the same time.

A headache flared up as he realized he'd never stopped crying. Throbbing pain radiated from where it hurt. He needed to go. So he did all he knew to do.

He ran.


	8. CRAIG

"Mr. Donovan?" Craig asked into the phone, trying to hide the urgency in his voice. "Mr. Donovan, is that you?"

Roger also sounded nervous when he answered, "Yes, Craig, what can I do for you?"

"Do..." He fiddled with the strings on his hat, trying to figure out how to put it into words. "Do you know where Clyde is?"

It was a Saturday. Yesterday he hadn't come to school, and Craig knew for a fact Clyde wasn't sick. It just didn't happen. Clyde had the immune system of a vulture and had a fairly clean medical record (save the lice incident years ago). What were the odds he would spontaneously get sick after the hardest week of his life?

Roger paused. "He's gone." Craig's stomach dropped, but before he could stammer out a panicked response, Roger went on. "He ran away. Last night. I mean, I'm assuming..." Craig could practically imagine Clyde's dad pacing back in forth, phone pressed against his ear, with his other hand running through his brown hair. "His clothes were gone, his phone too, and some other stuff. I just... I couldn't find him this morning. I'm sorry, Craig, I-"

"It's alright, sir," Craig interrupted quietly. "Can I come over and help you with finding him?"

"Of course," Roger said hastily, and they managed rushed good-byes before hanging up.

"Clyde," Craig murmured, shaking his head and laughing numbly, sadly. "You dense asshole."

He picked up a pair of plain shoes and sat on his bed, kneeling over to slide them on and tie the laces.

It's funny how tense moments make you remember memories that were buried deep and named irrelevant for years.

But there he was. A younger Craig, and a younger Clyde, and Craig somehow distinctly remembered the situation. Betsy, Clyde's mom, had just scolded Clyde for leaving the toilet seat up and Clyde was pouting as they walked around the block shortly after. They couldn't have been over maybe eight years old, nine tops.

"This is stupid!" Younger Clyde growled, spitting at the ground with his arms crossed, his steps excessively loud and thundering.

"Horseshit," Younger Craig agreed.

"Yeah, what you said." Younger Clyde dismissed the answer with the wave of his hand. "I just can't believe she got mad at me for leaving the toilet seat up, of all things."

Craig sourly reflected upon how the problem turned out to be much bigger than their naive minds had imagined.

Younger Craig, on the other hand, nodded and turned back, flipping the bird in the house's general direction before turning to meet Younger Clyde's eyes again.

"You know what, Craig?"

"What?"

"Someday I'm gonna run away," Younger Clyde said determinedly, dreamily even. "Then they'll be sorry they ever yelled at me."

"You'll die," Younger Craig said monotonously, not quite debunking his plan, but rather laying out the facts.

"Anything's better than being grounded!"

They both laughed.

Craig snapped back into the present as he finished looping the second shoelace. He bit his lip, shaking his head repeatedly. "Idiot," he said fondly, smiling though the world felt dull. He laughed sadly before heading to the garage to get his bike and riding the few blocks to Clyde's dad's place.

Roger was outside the front door, waving timidly as Craig forced the kickstand down and jumped off nimbly.

"I walked through the neighborhood twice today and haven't found him," Roger informed him, looking nervous. "I assume he's hiding, but South Park is a small place... who knows how far he could be by, say, tomorrow?"

Craig swallowed. "Let's try not to think about that." He paused. "Maybe we could print out missing posters and hang them around?"

Roger smiled. "I have some I just printed out; I was planning on putting them out after you left. I just don't want you to have to get involved, Craig."

"I want to," the teenager answered solemnly. "I need to." A thick mix of anger and guilt swelled in his chest as he recalled their fight. He didn't want to admit it, but he owed it to Clyde. He'd been so caught up in the moment, and he hadn't realized that maybe Clyde was right. About Tweek. About everything.

They spent the rest of the day pinning up the sheets to wooden posts, trees, anywhere it would stay in the wintery conditions. And every time he stabbed the thumbtack into it, every time he left a sign behind him, Craig had to look at Clyde's face again. Every time, he thought silently, "I'm sorry."

He truly was, even if he couldn't properly express it.

The more he thought about it, the more he realized how much he loved Clyde. How much he hadn't appreciated him. Clyde was a stupid, lovable idiot, and somehow they were absolutely perfect for each other. Where Clyde lacked common sense, there was Craig. Where Craig lacked emotional insight, there was Clyde. They had done some pretty fucking cool things. And they had pulled some rad pranks. All in all, they were platonic soulmates. A match made in heaven.

Maybe that was how they'd stayed friends since early elementary school.

But really, how could he have survived without Clyde?

Who had been there when Stripe died? Clyde.

Who had been there when Stripe #2 died? Clyde.

Who had been there when Stripe #3 died? Clyde.

Okay, yeah. Craig had lost a lot of guinea pigs. He grinned upon the reflection but his heart plummeted again when he thought about the recent events.

Who had been there when Rex died?

No one.

Not Craig Tucker. Not a soul.


	9. TOKEN

Token was sluggishly marking the date- Saturday- on his calendar when the vibrating of his phone shook his bed and the ring went off. An incoming call from Craig. He felt groggy and wanted to go to bed more than anything, to sink into his sheets and let the world dissolve around him. He didn't want to face reality at the moment. His brain felt fuzzy and sticky; it hurt to think.

"Hello?" He hardly registered that he'd picked it up before the phone was pressed against his ear. As soon as he uttered the word, he reached for his neck wincing at the pain that speaking caused. It was like sandpaper was scraping at his throat.

"Token." Craig's voice was low. "You finally picked up."

Token rubbed his eyes. "What do you mean?"

"I've called you, like, five times already."

He blinked. "Shit, really? I just woke up."

"It's three in the fucking afternoon," he answered, his voice carrying light undertones of annoyance. His words sounded slightly rushed and anxious. "Anyway." He took in a breath. "Clyde's missing."

"WHAT?" Token's head was stabbed with pain as he jumped up from his bed. Colorful dots danced around in front of him. "How?" He started fumbling for words, managing odd sounds and jumbled phrases. 

"He ran away," Craig spat. "Or, we think so, anyway."

"He... he can't be gone." Token switched the phone to speaker and dropped it onto his bed in exchange for the capability to pace.

"He is."

Token clutched his head, mind spinning. "No shit, Craig." He regretted the words, but no more than he regretted everything else. He felt sloppy and hurt and like he was losing himself. Was this how Clyde had felt? So, so tired? Like... couldn't the universe just disappear? For a little while?

A pang of horrid guilt was stirring in his chest.

There was silence over the line, and Token wondered for a moment if Craig had hung up.

"You never sleep in. Are you okay?"

"Am I okay?" Token wasn't sure. "How am I supposed to be okay?" He didn't mean for it to come out so accusingly but his tone was beyond his control. More silence. "Look, I'm sorry. I don't feel right lately."

"I can't say I blame you," Craig said flatly. "Bye, Token."

"Yeah... bye, Craig." Dead line.

He felt sick in a way that was more painful than the highest fever. But his skin was the average temperature. His head stopped spinning. His heart, his chest, his gut? They ached. They whined at him that whatever he did was wrong. They made him want to sleep.

Eventually Token managed to force himself to open the window, letting in a gust of bitter air. He squinted at the bright landscape, covered in snow. Clyde was out there somewhere. Struggling. Beaten. Getting himself killed.

While terrible fantasies were brewing in his head, he heard his phone ring again and picked it up. Craig's face was on the screen, along with his name and number. "Craig?"

"Yeah..." He sounded almost sheepish compared to his usual tone.

"What is it?" Token asked.

"I'm sorry to bug you again," Craig went on, and Token had to fight the temptation to respond with, "Not a problem," as he was still talking. "But... if you can ever, someday, get a hold of him..."

Someday.

Him.

"...could you please tell him I'm sorry?"

The words hung in the air threateningly, delicately.

"Of course."

"Thank you," Craig said, then hung up quickly.

His heart was tight in a way that made him want to claw it straight out of his chest. He had a lot of questions, and a lot of emotions, and a lot of regret. But more than anything he wished Clyde Donovan were there to give him a hug. Clyde gave the best hugs.

Warm.

And soft.

And before he knew it, he was passed out on his bed, the last of his tears leaking from his eyelashes.


	10. CLYDE

How could you get lost in your own hometown? That's what Clyde wanted to know. Days of walking around in South Park, not straying any further from his dad's house nor getting any closer.

Not that he wanted to go back.

Well, he did. But he had made his choice. He had to leave, at least until Roger could find a stable job, and could support both of them.

It was scary being so close yet so far, living in the constant fear he would be found, brought back to his home, and sent to drain the last of the money from his poor father. But it was even scarier to imagine traveling out of the town, out of the state.

He was very scared.

But he kept walking.

And walking.

And walking.

Where was he going?

He was tired. His dizzy thoughts came and went.

His fingers were icy, the tips of them shifting into a purple hue. Was that frostbite? He didn't know. He didn't know anything.

He tried blowing warm breaths into his palms. No luck; he couldn't feel the slightest of temperature rises in his hands, even through his mittens. All he got was a plume of light cloudy air, which at any other moment in his life he might have been happy about.

How did he ever think a coat would be sufficient? It was so cold. It would be so nice to just sit down on the snow, roll over, and lay there. Forever. He wanted to stop fighting.

A long while passed that he just trudged on through the snow. He was now walking along the sidewalk, safe in the knowledge that none of the buildings had lights on.

Almost unwillingly, his feet carried him to a street he recognized as soon as he reentered reality. The street most of his friends lived on or near. With stars illuminating the dark sky and a pale light cast over the area by the moon, he kept going. Where was he going? To die? Why did he keep trying to make things better when all he was doing was getting himself killed?

This was all such a big mistake, but he didn't know how he was supposed to turn back.

He blinked back tears. This was so not a good time to cry. Especially to ugly-cry, which was the kind of mood he was in.

Clyde scanned the area again and noticed a silhouette sitting in front of the door to their house. Jumping in shock, he instinctively reached for his phone to check the time before remembering how it had reached zero percent the previous day. Time was irrelevant now anyway, and the moon said it was later than midnight.

But why would someone be out so late? Especially just sitting on their knees at the porch, staring in front of them?

And then their head turned.

Clyde felt shivers run through his body as the figure stood up. He needed to run. Fight or flight response was kicking in, but he couldn't get himself to move as the person walked slowly, cautiously, across their yard.

As soon as he stepped onto the sidewalk, though, Clyde both eased and became more anxious. The light hit the teenager at just the right angle for him to see his features.

Token Black.

Token's eyes widened as a look of realization crossed his face. He ran full speed towards Clyde, who was shocked into a frozen position. He barrelled into him, nearly knocking him over in a tight and un-Tokenlike hug.

Clyde couldn't breathe either because of Token suffocating him or because of the awe that caught his throat at this situation. He hugged back, more gently.

Token eventually moved his head back from where his neck was held over Clyde's shoulder and Clyde met his eyes, which were glossy and wet. "Where were you?"

Clyde almost forgot to answer, the amount of time he spaced out. "Here and there."

Token laughed and pulled him in again. Clyde felt tears drip onto his collarbone and shoulder as he witnessed Token Black, the friend who never cried, cry. His brain was practically in autopilot. It was a difficult circumstance to process, that much he knew.

Clyde eventually broke the hug, staring at his feet.

Token pressed his hands against Clyde's lower face to lift his chin up. They were staring at each other. Clyde heard blood pound in his ears as the serene night went on. Crickets chirped. The boys' silence held.

Token's face was hard to read. He was smiling, but it was a sad smile. His eyebrows were tilted like he was concerned. But he never left his warm hands from Clyde's face.

Clyde let out a soft breath, watching in wonder as the cloud appeared just like it had before.

Just like it always had.

"I forgot the dream I had last night," Token said both suddenly and wisely, like he had been rehearsing the line in wait. "Until I saw you."

Clyde shivered.

"I remember it now. I found you, but you were dead." He swallowed. "I bent down to touch your face but it was so cold. I couldn't. I just couldn't." He finally looked away and let his arms fall to his sides.

"I'm sorry," Clyde managed to say before the tears he'd just barely been able to hold off came pouring out like a waterfall. Gross sounds emitted from his mouth and he could hardly keep his eyes open enough to see Token tilt his head at him before he took his hand.

Token tightened his grip and lead him inside. "Come on. You need some sleep."

He shook his head lightly, trying to protest despite knowing Token was right. For the first time in days, Clyde felt the familiar relief of a home heater as they stepped past the doorway in unison, Token reaching back to shut the door quietly behind them.

"Shh." Token ushered him into his bedroom. Clyde bit down on his own coat's sleeve, trying to avoid waking Token's parents.

The scene felt dark and stuffy as he shuffled along, but in what had to have been less than a minute, he was laying down on Token's huge bed, sniffling and curled up in a ball.

Token reached down to pull Clyde's jacket off of him, leaving him slightly more comfortable while still in a white t-shirt and long jeans. He tucked a blanket over him, the way they used to at old sleepovers, when Token had to stay up late to finish homework for his accelerated classes.

Clyde, barely conscious, felt a presence at his side, warming his back. Token felt for Clyde's arm, seemingly sensing how it was still cold. And let his arm stray over Clyde's side.

It was the most comfort Clyde had felt in years. Maybe since his mother's days. He remained still, drowning in bliss, for a short while.

Just as sleep was beginning to drag him under, he heard Token's voice speak up. It was hesitant but clear, as if he thought Clyde was asleep but wanted to say it regardless.

"I think I might love you."

And Clyde, moments before passing out, answered, "I think I might love you too."


	11. TOKEN

When Token woke up, it felt like all his memories of the previous day slammed into place at once. He sat upright, itching the back of his neck, feeling every detail form another drop of sweat trickling down his skin.

When he looked beside him, though, he felt the knotted ball of anxiety building up in his chest shrink a little. Clyde's arms were wrapped around his legs and he was scrunched up in a cozy position. Token felt a smile form on his face and reached over to tuck a few strands of Clyde's messy hair out of his eyes.

Yeah. That felt about right.

He leaned his back against the headboard of his bed, propped up by a single pillow. Clyde had managed to steal the remainder of the pillows, resting them under his head, between his legs, around his arms, anywhere. It was pretty damn cute.

He forced himself to look away, trying to clear his thoughts. His night was a blur; he was unable to tell whether he'd slept at all or if he'd fallen asleep fairly early. He distinctly remembered the stupid hazy confession scene. But he could have easily been dreaming. Or he heard Clyde wrong. Or Clyde was sleep-talking.

All in all, not much of a chance there was a mutual crush thing going on. No, none at all. The more Token thought about it, the more defeated he felt.

Finally, the blankets beside him started moving around and Clyde wriggled out of his mini-fort. He yawned and blinked, facing Token lazily before he took a small jump and his eyes widened.

"Hm?" Token winced as he watched Clyde's mixed emotions unfold.

"I shouldn't be here..." the brunette whispered, looking to be having a large amount of trouble making words.

"Hey, it's okay," Token said. "I'm here now."

He looked to be grasping onto the words. "I fucked up, Token, I don't know what to do..."

"You're okay," he insisted firmly. "I'm going to get you through this."

Clyde bit one of his thumb's nails, looking down. "Thank you."

Token smiled. "Yeah." A memory recovered itself and he picked up Clyde's phone from his nightstand, yanking it from the charger. "By the way, here's your phone."

"Oh!" The way Clyde's eyes lit up the way they used to made a burst of happiness pang Token's chest. He took the object from his hands and pressed the power button, revealing an unsurprisingly large amount of missed calls and messages. "All these people were worried about me?"

"Of course."

Clyde smiled and unlocked it. Token glanced at him scrolling through notifications, but after a few short moments, he stopped.

"What is it?"

"It's from Craig." His voice sounded strained as he reluctantly opened the Voicemail. Token listened in, leaning over so they both shared the screen.

An abrupt static-like noise filled the room before, about a second later, Craig's voice carried through. "Hey, man. I know you probably aren't going to see this. But on the other hand, you must be listening to this right now, so what the hell. Anyway. Look, I'm sorry about the other day. You were right, I guess is what I'm saying. I was a bad friend, and I was too defensive to admit it, and now we're both fucked. God, this sounds stupid..."

Tears gathered in Clyde's eyes as Craig finished.

"This is a bad apology, the biggest reason being that there's a good chance you'll never see this. But whatever. I miss you, even though you're an asshole for running away. That makes me an asshole too, though. See you around someday, maybe." The call ended.

Clyde groaned and shifted his position to bend over, hugging Token. "I cannot believe," his muffled voice muttered, "I did that."

Token debated asking him to elaborate, but all the facts were on the table. He and Craig had a fight. That was it.

"You know what?"

"What?" Clyde asked.

"How about we go visit Craig in a little bit?"

"Yeah." He nodded, sitting up and wiping a long dribble of snot from his face. "I think that would be good."

They both held a smile before Token had to look away to control his drifting thoughts. He'd just have to accept that what happened last night didn't exist in this timeline. He was only ever going to Clyde's friend.

Nothing more.

Just as Token was trying to get rid of the fit of butterflies in his stomach, Clyde began speaking, looking up at the ceiling with his hands crossed over his torso. "What does this make us?"

"H-huh?"

"Like, correct me if I'm wrong, but I was kind of... under the impression... that..."

"Yeah," Token huffed, his face burning. "What..." He considered his wording. "What do you want to be?"

"I mean, I wanna be your boyfriend," Clyde said.

Holy fuck.

No, holy FUCK. Seriously.

"Oof, was I that off?" Clyde wondered, a nervous smile playing his face. Token's head spun as he realized he'd said that all out loud.

"No... no! It's just... oh my God..." Clyde hadn't said something such like himself in weeks, and saying it directly to Token? About dating? 

Clyde merely shrugged, closed the space between them, and pulled Token into the kiss he'd been wanting for years upon years. If it was a second, it was the best second of his life. Clyde almost immediately regained his pose from moments before.

"That felt really nice," Token stammered.

"Mhm." Clyde hardly spoke, looking surprised at himself.

"I think I want to be your boyfriend, too," his companion offered. When he saw Clyde raise his eyebrows, he added, "Scratch that. I want to be your boyfriend."

Clyde's face lit up in the most beautiful way and he moved in for another kiss. It was short but sweet, like the previous one.

They sat next to each other in silence for a little while, staring at their feet. The way Clyde's bare feet wiggled around next to his. He couldn't help smiling.

After a minute at most, Token lifted himself off the bed and yanked the covers behind him. "Come on, boyfriend, let's get you showered so we can work everything out."

"Okay, boyfriend."

The morning felt as refreshing as it possibly could. The light was just spilling out of each of the windows in the house and birds could be heard chirping outside. By the time Clyde had finished showering, Token had finally gotten ahold of the runaway's father. While Clyde entered the room, a towel tied around his waist and a wave of steam wafting in from the hallway, Token gestured to his wardrobe, where his clothes were. The idea of Clyde wearing his clothes was new but not in any way unwelcomed.

"Hello, Mr. Donovan?" Clyde froze from where he was going through shirts, turning his head around to stare while Token spoke into his phone.

Roger was babbling, but Token caught a few "Token!"s and "What have you found?"s.

"Clyde is with me," he answered firmly.

"OH MY GOD!" Roger yelled, heavy breathing following. "THANK YOU, THANK THE HEAVENS, WHEN CAN I SEE HIM, OH MY GOD OH MY GOD..."

"Don't worry, sir, I'll bring him over as soon as possible," Token replied, smiling in relief. Clyde noticed his expression and put the pieces together, a soft grin appearing on his face. He stayed like that until Token hung up, when he lingered for a moment and then looked horrified.

"What is it?" Token asked, concerned.

"I can't go back," Clyde spat all at once. "If I do, then we'll be in as bad a situation as before. Please Token, don't let me go back."

Token tilted his head at him before standing up. "Hey, it's okay. Put on a shirt and we'll figure this out really quick, capiche?"

"Okay..." Clyde agreed faintly, dizzily finishing clothing himself. "What are we gonna do?"

"Before we do anything, I need to get you home," Token said moments before cringing at his poor word choice.

Home? Did he even have a home?

"I'm sorry! I meant-"

"Token, please!" Clyde begged, suddenly terrified from his head to his toes all over again. It was a sight that broke Token to watch. "I can't go back!"

"Hey, man," he said, rushing over to comfort him the best he could. "We just have to see your dad, so he knows you're okay. I promise I'll take care of you." The words were flowing out of his mouth before he could stop them. Too late. A promise he couldn't keep.

"You promise?" Clyde sniffled.

No. No, he couldn't lie to him, not when he was so vulnerable.

"I promise."

Well fuck.

"Thank you. For everything."

"No problem." There were many more words to be said, but for now, that would have to do.

Anything for Clyde.

Clyde wiped his nose, laughing a little in a manner that made Token smile despite the awkward aura of the room. Yeah. This was all worth it.

This all ends now.

"I guess we better get out the door, then?"

"I guess so," Token answered. Clyde looked up from where he was hunched down, sliding on his tennis shoes. His smile said their last good-bye but his eyes said their first hello, and in that one look, an overwhelming surge of emotions was thrown at Token. All the emotions he'd felt for Clyde, the burning, burning love that he'd tried so hard to hide. His expression was pain and sorrow for the terrible events that had brought them here, but hopeful and grateful for the times ahead of them, that they had earned themselves.

"I love you," Token managed blandly, surprised at how choked his voice came out.

Clyde laughed a little, once more. "You've told me that a million times today."

"I mean it." He couldn't fight off his grin as he reached out a hand for Clyde to grab. Clyde did so immediately after tying up his shoes, and when both of them stood up, their hands never released the grip connecting them.

They wouldn't let go for a long time yet.


	12. CLYDE

"LOOK!"

The first word Clyde heard when he and Token started walking up to the gang's table was about what he was expecting. Tweek let loose a handful of pulled-out hair from his hands and ran over to hug them both without missing a beat.

Jimmy and Craig both visibly perked up, their eyes glazed with wonderment, watching as the other three were reunited.

After a short moment, Tweek let go and dug his hands into Clyde's shoulders, shaking Clyde back and forth as he ranted and tried to pry answers from him.

"Easy there," Token said, but he too was smiling, relieved.

"Sorry! I just- GAH! He's been gone for, like, ever! Well, it's been a few days, but time passes faster with the aliens, right?" He directed the last question at Clyde, quirking his eyebrows accusingly.

"...No?" Clyde tried. "What aliens? Am I missing something?"

"Okay... yeah, there's no aliens," Tweek huffed sarcastically, sighing and shaking his head, nearly laughing. This seemed to amuse him. He finally dropped his grip and made to sit down at the table, but not without a wink at Clyde.

Clyde took a moment to process the situation as Token lead him to the others.

"I'm so g-g-glad you're back!" Jimmy smiled brightly. "I have a c-couple of routines that-"

"Clyde," Craig said firmly. The seriousness almost shocked everyone still. If there was one thing about Jimmy (besides his debatably humorous jokes) it was that very few people interrupted him. Ever. Perhaps out of respect, or genuine interest, but it seemed that everyone wanted to hear what he had to say.

"Y-yeah?" Oops. He hadn't meant to stutter.

"I'm really sorry for what I did back there." His voice and resting bitch face almost made his apology seem like the exact opposite point he was trying to get across, but having a tight-knit group of friends meant understanding communication- and this was maybe the most authentic Craig had been in a long while. "I mean... you might have... gotten the message..."

Clyde swallowed. He'd meant to visit Craig yesterday, hadn't he?

But he'd met up with his dad, and that was emotional enough on its own.

"Clyde, listen, I get it if you don't want to be friends anymore. I did a bitchy thing and I guess-"

"As much as I'm enjoying this, shut up you idiot, of course I wanna be your friend," Clyde teased, tapping Craig's nose with his finger and ultimately shattering the tension with one swift blow.

"You're just as spontaneous as I remember." Craig scowled, crossing his eyes, and all five of them broke out into laughter.

When the noise finally broke down, Jimmy said, "See, Craig? It's j-j-juh-j...j-jaaaaa-j-just what I told you! Things always get better."

Craig grinned. "I guess you're right. Sorry."

"No b-b-biggie," Jimmy assured him, satisfied, reaching into his pocket. He eventually looked up to face everyone else. "S-so, who's up for a g-g-g-game of Uno?"

"ME!" Clyde practically screamed. His fingers itched to touch the flimsy cards after what felt like an eternity. Maybe Tweek was right. Maybe aliens, with the intent of making him want to play Uno more than ever, had abducted him and then replaced his memory.

Or maybe he was just happy to see his friends.

The latter was more likely, he decided as he placed down a red seven.

And maybe he wasn't so displeased at this turn of events, as it had resulted in a tighter bond with Token and Craig.

Reverse card. His turn again.

And perhaps he was just realizing that when life went on, he had to go on as well, for the better of himself and others.

Tweek slapped a draw four on the table. Pfft, by Token and Jimmy's reactions, they were practically out of the game.

And there was a small chance he might have been plotting to tackle everyone in a quick hug before rushing off to class.

One card left in his pile.

"Uno!"

"Aw, man!" Tweek breathed, shuffling around the cards in his hands.

One turn passed, in which the others were forced into drawing mediocre cards from the pile.

Clyde stealthily flicked over a blue four, watching in satisfaction as it landed smack-dab on the pile.

While his friends spoke their reactions, Clyde stared at his empty hands.

He'd won, in more ways than one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ITS DONE
> 
> this was, to say the least, an experience to write (my first full-length story thingamajig, woot woot!) and it was fun even though i took quite a bit longer than i thought! thanks for all the support i got on this one, im just a little kid who likes a certain mature tv show and the english language
> 
> this last chapter is lazy and literally just. me writing about uno  
BUT STILL  
THANK YOU GOES OUT TO Y'ALL FOR GIVIN ME A JOLLY GOOD TIME ESPECIALLY MY BEST FRIEND YOU KNOW WHO YOU ARE MATE
> 
> well!  
it's been real, it's been fun, it's been real fun, but i gotta bounce B^)
> 
> seriouslythoughthankyouguyssomuchokbye


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